


Strikesgiving 2020

by Infinite_Fandoms



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Fandoms/pseuds/Infinite_Fandoms
Summary: A drabble a day keeps the blues away! Hope you enjoy the series!Stories not connected.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 54
Kudos: 68
Collections: Strikesgiving 2020





	1. Close the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting Strikesgiving off with some adult themes ;-)

Strike looked up from scribbling his notes into the file of their latest client as Robin entered their shared office.

“Hiya,” she sang brightly.

“Evenin’”

“So I was thinking,” Robin continued, hanging her coat on the hook affixed to the wall. “Since it’s so late, and everyone is gone. Maybe we can call in a takeaway?”

“Sure!” Strike agreed with enthusiasm. He wasn’t one to turn down a meal.

“Great! And I was also thinking,” Robin swaggered over to him, hips swaying purposefully. She came up behind him, bent over, and whispered “maybe we could have dessert first?” into his ear, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his skin.

“What?” Strike asked, dumbfounded. “Here? In the office?”

“Close the door,” she purred, nibbling gently on his earlobe.

He wasn’t one to turn down dessert either, so he got up to close the door.


	2. I'm not going anywhere

“Robin!” she can hear Strike shouting her name through A&E.

“Robin!”

She shrinks a little.

“Robin!” he finally finds her, arms folded over her chest; fading red marks around her neck.

“Will you bloody stop shouting?” she asks him. “And before you say anything, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Docs said you’d been strangled!!”

“Minor choking at best,” she rebutted.

“Robin, you keep getting hurt, maybe we should consider”

“No,” she cut him off. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not considering anything alternative to what I do now. I knew what the risks were coming into this job.”

“Fine,” Strike huffed, “but we’re going to be working together a lot more closely for a while.”

Robin didn’t mind the sound of that at all.


	3. I feel like I can't breathe

Strike could feel Robin trembling next to him. As much as she might be trying to suppress it, it wasn’t working.

“Robin? Robin, what’s the matter?” Strike asked with concern in his voice, his partner turning as white as a sheet next to him.

She was trying to keep her panic attack under control. She can’t lose it in front of perspective clients, but with the concern in Strike’s voice, her resolve crumbles. She doubles over, putting her head between her knees trying to stop the shaking, and to catch her breath.

“Oh, Robin, you’re having a panic attack,” Strike backs their new clients away from her to give her some space.

“I feel like,” she gasped. “I can’t breathe.”

“It’s okay,” Strike assured her, rubbing her back. “It’s okay. I’m here with you. We’ll get through this. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you. It’s okay.”

Their clients left.

Bollocks to them.

“It’s okay, Robin,” Strike went on, unperturbed. “Just try to breathe. It will pass. I’m here.”


	4. Did you hear that?

Strike’s torch swept the ground between him and Robin. The wooded area they were searching was dark enough to see a lot of stars, but not so dark that they couldn’t see the light pollution pouring out from London proper.

“Shhhhhhh,” he whispered.

But the only thing Robin could hear was the sound of crickets singing.

“What is it?” Robin whispered back.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what??

“Come here,” he whispered even lower, beckoning her closer.

Robin had to inch her head nearly right next to his to hear him.

“It’s the sound,” Strike said, grabbing Robin playfully round the waist. “Of me kissing you!”

He planted kisses all over her face and neck while she squealed in delight.


	5. Are you finished with those?

“I can’t believe we had to get a takeaway again this week,” Robin started, forking noodles into her mouth.

“I can,” Strike mumbled through a mouthful of his own noodles.

“Honestly, we’re going to die of heart failure in our 50s if we keep it up.”

“60s for me,” Strike rose his fork in cheers to her as he inhaled another bite.

“Well, in that case, are you finished with those?” she asked, reaching for the bag of hot doughnuts they’d picked up for dessert, that Strike had already started on before dinner.

“I am,” Strike paused. “For now.”

He winked at her and smiled before shoving more noodles into his mouth.


	6. It's okay, you didn't know

Robin didn’t usually like sneaking up on Strike, but the opportunity presented itself and she couldn’t resist.

Strike sat on the sofa in their new flat, boxes strewn about, completely lost in the telly. He didn’t hear her come in, or the jingle her keys made when she hung them up on the “Welcome to our home” key hooks.

She wasn’t trying to be quiet, he just didn’t notice.

She slid her shoes off, and snuck up behind him in socked feet.

She leaned in and planted several kisses on his right cheek and ear.

“Oooowwwww,” Strike cried out, clamping a hand over his cheek where she’d kissed him.

“Oh, no, what’s the matter?” Robin asked, her face falling into concern.

“I cut myself shaving this morning. It feels like the pressure opened the cut back up.” He pulled his hand away from his face, and then back, and then away again several times expecting to see blood, but seeing nothing.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s okay, you didn’t know,” Strike stopped touching his face, satisfied that he didn’t seem to be bleeding again.

“Now, where were we?” he asked, pulling Robin over the back of the sofa and onto his lap to kiss her back.


	7. Hold my hand

“Ouch,” Robin cried, bending down to rub her shin, a blindfold tied over her eyes. “I can’t see a thing.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Strike countered.

“Here,” he reached out to her. “Hold my hand.”

Robin groped in the darkness for his hand. Intertwining her fingers with his, she crept forward a little slower to avoid accidently walking into anything else.

Strike eased her through the flat and back out into the garden.

“Alright, now watch your step here.”

Robin stepped over the framing of their sliding glass doors.

“Okay,” Strike said. “Stay right here.”

He let go of her hand.

“Okay, go ahead and take your blindfold off.”

Robin untied the blindfold, and blinked into the candlelit garden.

Flickers of orange from the flame danced across Strike’s face. He was dressed up in her favorite baby blue button-down shirt, and a lovely meal was laid out across their patio table.

“Surprise!”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, walking over to him and pecking him on the lips. “Thank you.”


	8. Can we just stay here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is MATURE (but not smut)

Robin nuzzled into Strike’s neck, while he lackadaisically stroked her arm that was draped over his bare chest.

“Can we just stay here forever?” she asked, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“I think we can arrange that,” Strike agreed, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of her bare breasts pressed against his rib cage.

“MMmmmm,” Robin cooed, nuzzling even closer to him, closing her own eyes. “This feels nice”

“Mmmhum,” Strike agreed, drifting off to sleep with the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against him.


	9. I can’t believe you remembered

“Happy Birthday,” Strike chirped, handing Robin a little square red velvet box.

Robin’s heart beat wildly in her chest. _Could this be it?_ She thought to herself. _Is he giving me an engagement ring for my gift?_

“Thank you,” she tried to smile up at him and minimize her hands from shaking.

She sucked in a deep, stilling, breath and opened the box.

Two pearlescent round opal earrings shined back at her.

Robin expelled the breath she’d been holding in relief. They were not ready for an engagement yet.

“WOW!” Robin beamed. “These are beautiful, thank you!”

She leaned in and pecked him on the lips.

“You’re welcome! I thought they would go along with the necklace your Mum gave to you.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that!”

“Of course I did,” he beamed back, thrilled to have delighted her. “You love that necklace.”


	10. I don't plan to stop

The Land Rover skidded to a halt on the wet pavement outside of the office on Denmark Street.

“Hiya, Stranger! Need a lift?” she asked out the window to a grumpy looking Strike waiting for her on the sidewalk, cane in tow.

Strike didn’t acknowledge her, and limped his way round the vehicle, grumbling to himself the whole way.

“Who pissed in your porridge?” she asked as he got in and shut the door.

“Just Lucy,” he started, shaking some of the wetness out of his hair from the slight misting of rain.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“Not really”

Robin sighed, and flipped her blinker on to inch back into traffic.

“Do you need anything before we get on the motorway?”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” he folded his arms and stared out the window.

“Well, I don’t plan to stop on the way down to Cornwall, so if you change your mind let me know.”

Robin reached behind her seat, feeling around the floorboards for the tin of biscuits she always brings for him on road trips. Those always help.

Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal tin and bright them up into the driver’s seat.

“Here,” she handed him the tin. “These might make you feel better.”

They did.


	11. Tell me again

Strike knew he and Robin should have quit drinking about an hour ago. But they were having fun. They were laughing and talking like most Friday nights they spent at The Tottenham after a week’s worth of work.

But now he could tell Robin was getting angry with him, and he didn’t know why. All he knew was he wanted to get the bill and get out of dodge.

Upon exiting, Strike lit up a cigarette immediately. Partly to calm his nerves and partly to have an excuse not to stick his foot in his mouth any more this evening.

After walking side-by-side in silence for a while, Strike’s excuse had no more to give. He threw the butt on the ground and blew a plume of smoke away from Robin and into the night air.

“So,” he started, trying to sound nonchalant. “What’s the matter?”

“What’s the bloody matter he asks?” she grumbles under her breath.

“Yeah, what’s the bloody matter?”

“What’s the bloody matter,” she practically shrieked into the night. “Is I’m in love with an idiot!”

“You’re what?”

Robin stared angrily ahead.

“No, please,” Strike encouraged. “Tell me again.”

“I’m in love with you. And also, you’re a bloody git!”

“A bloody git that loves you back,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, and hoping he doesn’t get punched instead.


	12. We have to be quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to bump my rating up for his chapter. o_O

“Shhhhhh,” Robin chastised Strike when the small desk lamp fell on the floor.

“I’m tryin’,” he grumbled back. “It’s not easy getting your pants off with one leg.”

“Don’t take them all the way off,” she whispered. Trying not to be too obvious with Pat typing away in the outer office.

“Right,” Strike let his jeans and boxer shorts pool around his ankles and bent Robin over the desk. Giving her bare bottom a gentle caress.

“Now don’t forget,” Strike leaned over her, inching closer to her ear. “We have to be quiet.”

Robin nodded, goosebumps erupting all over her flesh. She could feel his hard length poking at her wet folds, teasing her.

But she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips when he pushed himself inside of her.


	13. Do you believe me?

_This woman never ceases to amaze me_ , Strike thought as he watched Robin interact with his nephews.

Jack especially took a liking to her.

“Now for my next trick,” Robin said, wearing a magician’s hat and all. “I’ll make this ball disappear.”

The three of them sat quietly watching her, only one seemingly in awe of Robin and her magic.

With a sleight of hand, the ball disappeared into thin air and Robin said “Ta da!”

Jack clapped excitedly, but Luke was already trying to spoil it for everyone.

_Arsehole._

“It’s in your sleeve,” he said, unamused.

“No, it’s not”

“Yeah, Luke,” Jack came to her defense. “No, it’s not!”

Robin leaned in close to Jack, but not so close that the rest of her audience couldn’t hear.

“Some people just don’t believe in Magic, huh, Jack?”

“Exactly!” he shouted. Standing up to point an accusatory finger at his brother.

“Do you believe me, Jack?”

“Yes!” he shouted, jumping up and down on the sofa.

Strike knew Lucy wouldn’t approve, but Lucy left him in charge, so he allowed it.


	14. Don't look at me like that

“No, look at this,” Robin insisted, thumping the large book down on the desk, and turning it at an angle so Strike could read the passage she indicated.

“According to Shirley Lynn Scott ‘It is rare for serial killers to prey on people from another race. Consequently, because most serial killers are white, so are most of their victims (89%).’”

“So,” she went on, unconsciously leaning in closer to him. “It is highly improbable that Fahim is the killer. All the victims have been white women in their mid-to-late 20’s, all with brown hair. This isn’t a coincidence.”

When Strike didn't reply, she looked up from the book to find his eyes crinkled at the edges, smiling at her.

“What?” Robin asked, suddenly aware of how close she was to him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re kind of a nerd, Ellacott,” he said with such adoration in his voice it made her cheeks flush.

“Stop,” she smirked, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.


	15. I didn't mean to

“This feels wrong,” Robin whispers, but with a little jovial air to her voice that secretly says _but keep going._

Strike kisses down her neck, licks her collar bone, and nibbles his way back up to her earlobe.

The delightful little noises coming from her encourages him on.

She threads her fingers in his curls and leads his mouth to hers. She deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue in his mouth in search of his.

He knows it’s wrong. They really shouldn’t be necking like a bunch of teenagers on Nick and Ilsa’s sofa while they’re in the next room, but damn it felt so right.

“Oh my God,” Ilsa squeals, walking into the room grasping a beer for Strike and a glass of wine for Robin. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she stops mid-sentence as the two of them jump apart.

“Whoops,” say’s Strike, trying to smooth his wild hair. “Um, so Ils, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…”


End file.
